


Nobody sees what they don't want to see

by artsyspikedhair



Series: the problem is in you (but the system's fucked too) [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Grantaire, Cutting, Depression, Eating Disorders, Grantaire Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyspikedhair/pseuds/artsyspikedhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire was a rabble-rouser. He was impulsive, and had been told on many occasions he will contribute nothing to the world. Grantaire also suffers from depression, and tonight his irritability was at an all time high. Maybe that was why he said what he said next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody sees what they don't want to see

It was a regular night at the Musain. Joly and Bossuet were nursing drinks in the corner, but Grantaire was sober. He had been for the past four months, and nobody thought to ask why. Sobriety, however, did not change who Grantaire was. Now there just more sober heckling instead of drunken heckling. 

Enjolras, nevertheless, has been trying to include Grantaire more in the discussions. Sure,he almost always insulted what they were doing, but sometimes his insults showed flaws in the plan. This was never on purpose, but Enjolras appreciated it anyway. He also, rather selfishly, had been including Grantaire more because he had developed a rather intense crush on the short man.

Grantaire was a rabble-rouser. He was impulsive, and had been told on many occasions he will contribute nothing to the world. Grantaire also suffers from depression, and tonight his irritability was at an all time high. Maybe that is why he said what he said next, when Enjolras asked him if he had any thoughts on their new campaign to raise awareness on eating disorders in the trans community.

"I think this is pathetic. I think the entire idea that anyone will ever care enough about trans people to stop murdering them long enough to notice 'hey this freak hasn't eaten a proper meal in four months' is stupid. Cis people do not care, at all, unless they are fucking social justice warriors, like all of you. Eating disorders are still seen as girls' issues, and that's not going to fucking change. Nobody sees what they don't want to see, you all should know that more than anyone! So just give up, go play some Mario Kart, and then wait twenty years until the Trans Panic Defense has been repealed. Then people might care about your stupid posters, which, by the way, I could have drawn better!" 

Grantaire walked out of the room, fists clenched in anger. He believed what he had said, but he didn't want to. Most of his anger had been at himself for even daring to say those words to Enjolras. Enjolras, whose face crumbled as he said the word stupid. 

But it was more than that too. He was mad at himself for revealing so much to his friends, his stupid, wonderful friends that hadn't noticed a thing was wrong with him. He was mad that he couldn't even eat like a normal person and nobody else gave enough of a damn to notice until he had fucked up and said too much. Grantaire was always saying too much, like the time he had texted Jehan after a particularly bad day, and told the poet about how he was afraid his latest cut was going to scar. He had never meant to tell anyone about his cutting. But Jehan asked him if he wanted Joly to come over, knowing the two of them were close and Joly was a doctor, and Grantaire was dumb enough to say yes. 

Thinking about self harm made Grantaire want to do it. He had been trying to quit, (he was always trying to quit), but this particular speech needed punishment. Grantaire always carried a pair of scissors with him, scissors he used for projects in his art but also for times like this. He took them out and savagely went at his left wrist, angered by the weak cuts the scissors made. He was trying to go vertical, in hopes that maybe he could bleed to death right there in front of the Musain, but the darkness combined with his internal self-loathing made the cuts more diagonal than anything else. Soon he couldn't see where he was cutting, for it was all covered in blood. 

Grantaire was crying as he wildly flung the scissors away from him. He was suddenly afraid to die out there, where his friends would find him, and worse than that he had forgotten a band aid or even fucking gauze. Grantaire was angry for having given up on his plan to quit, and he hadn't eaten all day. He was tired, so he covered his eyes with his hands, left wrist still bleeding, and wept, all while thinking to himself how his father would have used this opportunity to call Grantaire out, saying he could never be a real boy because boys don't cry. 

Enjolras was worried. The meeting had gone on another fifteen minutes before almost everyone left through the back door, but Joly was frantically texting Grantaire, and when Combeferre had asked him why he would want to bring that kind of negativity back into their meeting, he had said something about being worried because Grantaire did bad things when he was alone. Enjolras too hadn't missed the comments about four months and them not seeing what they didn't want to. Enjolras had struggled with an eating disorder himself, and thinking back on it, Grantaire had shown signs. 

He was always the first saying he had already eaten when the group went out for lunch or dinner. He had become more and more withdrawn but still more energetic, which Enjolras had attributed to his sobriety. Now Enjolras remembered how thrilling a day without food was, how he had felt like he could do anything, how he was constantly moving. Enjolras remembered too the exhaustion, the friends who didn't understand, the warped self image caused by his dysphoria not letting him see that he was rapidly becoming unhealthy, because his chest was still there and his hips were still there and the whole reason he was doing this was to have them gone. Enjolras could see himself in Grantaire, and he didn't want to. Grantaire needed help, that much was clear. 

Soon Bossuet got a call."Grantaire? Grantaire, where are you? Outside the Musain?" Bossuet looked increasingly worried as Grantaire explained through tears what had happened. Grantaire had left his phone at home, and was using the pay phone outside the Musain. Bossuet's number was the only one he knew by heart. 

"Joly, do you have gauze?" Bossuet suddenly asked. Joly nodded, and Enjolras was suddenly also angry. Who did Grantaire think he was, to be a major disturbance and then show up needing gauze, having no doubt caused some superficial wound for attention. Grantaire was always trying to get attention. But then Enjolras remembered his worries from minutes before, and realized how selfish he was being. 

Grantaire walked in, shoulders hunched. When he looked up, he saw Enjolras and felt so much guilt it felt like it was choking him. "I... I'm sorry, Apollo." He choked out, but he knew that wasn't good enough. He almost felt like fainting, so his pace quickened as he walked towards Joly. He lifted his sleeve, and Enjolras was horrified. There was blood everywhere. But Joly cleaned it, happening to have brought his first aid kit with him. And then it didn't look as bad, just four or five cuts on his wrist. The problem was the blood kept on coming up as Joly cleaned them. Joly wrapped the gauze around them. 

Enjolras felt he should leave, it was such an intimate moment. He accepted the apology, knowing the outburst came from a place of deep suffering. Then he said "Grantaire, I think you need help." 

Grantaire was angry again. "I'm getting help from Joly, I'm fine!" His high voice cracked, showing for all the world he was not fine. Grantaire was as far from fine as someone could get without being actively suicidal. 

Enjolras will not let Grantaire waste away like he did for so long. "Grantaire, I know you've been starving yourself. I've been there. I think you should eat something." 

Grantaire gave in, because, well, it was Enjolras. He called the waitress over and ordered a flour-less chocolate cookie, the best thing they served. Then he asked Enjolras, "What do I do now? You know it isn't as simple as this." 

"Now," Enjolras said, "you grab one of those flyers that you could have drawn better, and you get help. Those are all trans friendly hotlines. You also talk to your friends, including me if you want, when you feel like doing that"he pointed to Grantaire's wrist, "again." 

"I don't deserve this, Apollo. I don't contribute anything worthwhile to the world. I don't need help." Grantaire sounded so sure of himself as he said that, it made everyone else in the room sad. Joly and Bossuet hugged him, and Enjolras grabbed his hand once their hugging was done. 

"Yes, Grantaire, you do deserve this. You deserve everything good in this world." It was Bossuet who said that, but Enjolras agreed with every ounce of his being. Grantaire felt almost okay for the first time all evening. 


End file.
